


In the Closet (not a coming out story)

by CupcakeGirlA



Category: Olympics RPF, Real Person Fiction, Speed Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGirlA/pseuds/CupcakeGirlA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JR and Apolo are in a closet. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Closet (not a coming out story)

The closet is tight, confined, and dark. JR doesn’t dare to turn on the light or voice a complaint. He’s got Apolo’s hands on him for the first time in months. He’s not about to interrupt. Not for anything. So he doesn’t complain about the bucket next to his ankle, or the mop head he can smell leaning on the same wall as his head, just a few inches away. He just grits his teeth and holds on. Apolo however takes his time. He is slow to pull down JR’s skinsuit, and even slower to kiss up JR’s bare back to his shoulder. JR grips the edge of a nearby shelf and tries his damndest to keep breathing. He’s hard as a rock, and a touch desperate for it.

But Apolo is not to be rushed. He ignores JR’s wiggling hips, and the tiny whining sound he can’t quite contain. He pulls lube from his pocket and slowly starts to prepare JR. JR grunts, swearing softly at the cold slick fingers slipping into his ass.

“Fuck,” he gasps, leaning his head against the wall. “I knew you’d planned this!” he hisses. Apolo laughs, nipping at JR’s ear.

“Of course, I did!” he replies. He twists his fingers just right, and the sensation sends JR’s body careening into the concrete wall with an uncontrollable spasm of pleasure. “You know you like it!” Apolo chuckles, keeping his voice low. JR shudders, tossing his head back to look at him over his own shoulder.

“I do like it. But I’d love it if it was your dick moving inside of me instead of your fingers. So if you could get right on that,” JR says. He breaks off with a laugh, when Apolo’s fingers tighten on his hip.

“Don’t get smart with me, JR! I don’t have to play nice!” Apolo teases, twisting his fingers, and rubbing just right against JR’s prostate. JR groans pressing his hips back into Apolo’s hands. He bites his lip and rests his forehead against the wall again. He groans quietly.

“Please…” he pleads. Apolo’s hand softens on his hip, his fingers slowing in their prep work. He presses his face into the curve of JR’s shoulder and neck, kissing up his throat.

The first push of Apolo’s dick inside nearly has JR in tears. It feels so good, and it’s been so long. He thinks in a sudden moment of clarity that Apolo might be his own personal drug. His secret addiction. That maybe he’s been in withdrawal these past few months. Because he feels high right now, off Apolo’s touch alone. This, he imagines, is what a good hit of coke must feel like. He’s dizzy with it, and he wants to just close his eyes and feel this good for every moment of the rest of his life. He cries out softly when Apolo’s dick presses all the way inside. It’s perfect, and familiar, and just what he’s been wanting. Apolo’s arms wrap around him from behind, pulling his hips back, and holding them steadily at just the right angle. When Apolo pulls nearly all the way out, JR is suddenly hit by the instinct to pull him back, to keep him inside. He shifts his weight to one hand, planted on the wall and reaches back with the other. He gropes for Apolo’s hip, and once he finds it, tugs at him with a frantic need that has Apolo pressing back inside so quickly JR almost shouts. He clamps his teeth down on his own wrist to muffle the sound.

“Slow. Slowly,” Apolo mumbles, a touch out of breath with his own restrained want. He breathes into the crook of JR’s shoulder for a second, to get his bearings, and then leans away. He pulls his hips back until his erection almost leaves JR entirely, and then lets JR tug him back, pressing back in fast and hard. He groans at the tight heat of JR’s ass and repeats the motion. Each withdrawal has JR clamping down on him, his body begging for him not to go, and each thrust back in is like a warm, tight welcome to come in and stay awhile. He grits his teeth and lets his head fall forward to rest on JR’s high shoulder, keeping their bodies close, as he works in and out of JR’s ass. JR pants, his ribcage expanding and deflating between Apolo’s arms with each harsh breath.

Apolo sets an even pace and JR fights with each push and pull of Apolo’s hips to keep from crying out and giving them both away. There’s a certain thrill to doing this here and now. It’s the middle of the day at the Olympic Oval. The entire National team is on site for training, and they’re stashed in an out of the way broom closet. Time is limited, and even if they had all the time they could want, JR knows this won’t last long. Apolo might want to go slow, and draw it out, but it’s too good, and his pace increases in both speed and ferocity with each thrust.

Apolo groans, burying his face in JR’s shoulder, and reaches down to grip JR’s dick with one hand. He keeps the other hand on JR’s hip, holding him in place. His grip is firm, bruising, and JR can’t be bothered to complain when everything else feels so damn good. JR’s nails dig into the thick paint covering the cinderblock wall and Apolo’s hip respectively, and he cries out, muffling the sound against his own forearm. It’s good, so good and JR’s whole body tightens up with the pleasure flooding in his system. Before he can even make an attempt to slow it down it crests and bubbles over. He whines high in his throat, and comes, spurting all over Apolo’s hand and the wall in front of him. He grunts, pressing his ass back into Apolo’s still moving hips. Apolo gasps, the sudden tightening of JR’s ass throwing him over the edge. His rhythm falters, hips stuttering against JR’s as he comes too. He releases JR’s dick and his hip, his arms folding around JR’s waist, hugging his body closer. Their bodies press together from knees to neck, Apolo’s head falls to lay on JR’s shoulder, his weight resting against JR’s body.

JR pants for air, resting his forehead on the cool wall. His face is flushed, sweat dripping down his neck, and down along the center of his back. Apolo hums in his ear.

“I need to visit you more often,” he teases. JR laughs, his whole body shaking with it. He stands up straighter, wiping at the sweat on his forehead. Apolo releases him moving reluctantly away. JR turns around and smiles at him.

“I’m so getting a long leisurely blow job out of you later for this,” he says. Apolo presses close, and kisses JR on the mouth, almost chastely.

“Why is that? You came didn’t you?” he asks with a smile. JR nods.

“Yes, but now I have to go back out for afternoon ice practice with a sore ass, and smelling like sex. While you get to go back to your house to shower and take a nap,” he replies. Apolo shrugs.

“Well I am just visiting. But you’ve got a point. Ok fine. I owe you a blow-job. I’ll even be a good pseudo-boyfriend and spring for dinner. Practice end at the usual time?” he asks. JR nods. Apolo reaches for him again, kissing him intimately, tongue tasting. JR breaks the kiss to breathe. “I’ll pick you up out front,” Apolo says. JR nods again. They begin the process of redressing in the dark of the closet, wiping up their messes, and finding missing articles of clothing. “Have a good day, Dear,” Apolo says teasingly as he reaches for the door. JR stops him with a hand on the wrist, and pushes Apolo back into the far wall. He steps close, and this time when he takes Apolo’s mouth, the kiss is aggressive and charged. He tilts his head for a better angle, his mouth opening to Apolo’s. He pulls back and in the half-light sees the want already returning in Apolo’s eyes.

“See you later,” JR says quietly, opening the door and stepping out. He closes the door behind himself, and heads back toward the ice. He’s probably already late, and likely going to get yelled at, but he can’t really bring himself to care, not when he’s hopped up on an Apolo high, with the promise of another hit later that night.

  
The End.


End file.
